Claimed (Blood Ties Book 6)

I jumped at the roar as London lunged, grabbed a glass vase filled with blood-red roses in front of him, and heaved it across the hall.

Crash!

It smashed against the wall next to the paintings.

His powerful chest rose with a harsh breath as he fixed that dangerous stare on the water as it dripped to the floor. With a guttural snarl, he strode forward grabbed the first painting, and yanked it from the hooks holding it in place.

“Touch MY fucking SON!” he bellowed, slamming it down. “AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU!”

The wooden frame splintered instantly before he cast it aside, leaving it to clatter to the floor.

But his reaction was like a switch had been tripped…in all of us.

A ripple of rage coursed through me. Colder. Hungrier. More savage than I’d ever felt before. I sucked in the foul, fetid air of that place as he grabbed the next painting and wrenched it free.

Crack!

It shattered before he moved on, tore each one from the wall, and lunged forward. The soft, sheer blinds were next. Shredded in blind fury, they fluttered to the floor before the low-rise steel table was lifted into the air and heaved clear across the room.

Crash!

In a matter of minutes, the room was utterly destroyed. Broken, torn…

Still, it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t anywhere near enough.

Hard muscles rippled under his white shirt as he spun. That incensed look of rage was darker than I’d ever seen it before. “I’ll burn it.” His husky words were the match he needed. “I’ll burn it all to the goddamn ground.”

He strode into the kitchen, then yanked open the cupboard and rummaged through until he pulled out a large bottle of kerosene and placed it on the counter. But his gaze moved to that thumb.

I couldn’t look away as he reached out and grabbed it.

My gaze fixed on the touch I craved. To feel those callused ridges brush my tears away. But I wouldn’t, not anymore. Tears threatened. But they weren’t tears of sadness…they were of rage.

The kind that swallowed me.

London bowed his head as his fist closed around that shorn-off digit, his body quaking. “I promised him,” he whispered raggedly. “I promised him when I carried the both of you out of that place, they’d never take him from me.” There was a small shake of his head. “Now Hale has him. So I failed. I fucking failed.”

I opened my mouth to answer.

But no words came, trapped behind that lump in the back of my throat. Out of the twins, Colt was the one he protected the most. The one beaten. The one tortured…the one scarred. I saw the weight London carried now. The weight of responsibility to a broken boy…and now to a man.

It rippled back to me.

Go to him, London’s voice rose in my head. Fuck him, Wildcat. Love him. Take care of my son…

All the times London pushed me to Colt. Over and over again, as though he knew what Colt needed.

And he was desperate to put the son’s needs before his own.

“No…” Carven snarled, striding forward until he was in front of London. His words were a growl behind clenched teeth. “You didn’t. It was them. It was all of them. Fucking Hale and The Order. They take and corrupt and destroy. But they won’t destroy us, London. Do you hear me? They. Won’t. Destroy. Us.” He grabbed London by the back of his neck, dragging him close until their foreheads touched. The sight of that raw, masculine need for strength drew me forward. “Familia est omnia. Isn’t that what you’ve always told us, London? Family…is…everything.”

London shuddered, then reached out, grasped my hand and drew me closer. So close that I became part of the need for strength. Sparks collided in London’s dark eyes as he turned his head and fixed that desperate gaze on me. “Familia est omnia.”

Carven was the one who broke through his grief. The one who carried more pain in the absence of his twin than all of us combined. “We exist in a place they can’t reach,” he murmured. “No matter how many times they take us. We have something they will never have…we have us.”

I turned my head, meeting those blue eyes. Eyes fixed on mine as he whispered. “So you can either stand here and carry the fucking weight of all of this, or you can be the father you’ve always been…and help me get my goddamn brother back.”

With one hand gripping Colt’s severed thumb, London unscrewed the top of the kerosene, grabbed the bottle, and strode around the counter.

Flick…

The image ignited that same fury in me. I turned around and started walking. I knew where I was heading…and was unable to stop it.

My hands shook.

My breaths panted as I strode into the bedroom she’d shared with the man I loved. This was more than jealousy now. More than a petty fucking pissing contest I’d spat in the restaurant. I reached out, grabbed the bedding from the bed and, with a burning roar, ripped it free. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I tore her clothes from the closet, dumping them into a pile in the middle of the room.

It wasn’t enough…but it was a start.

The heavy thud of London’s steps approached. I spun, my wild eyes moving to the bottle in his hand. One that was now half empty.

The pungent stench filled my nose as he handed it to me, his gaze moving to the body slumped against the wall. As he stared, I grabbed the bottle and upended the rest of the flammable liquid, splashing it over the clothes and the bedding.

“The match,” I croaked, my throat raw. “Give me the damn matches, London.”

He reached out and handed them to me without a sound. My fingers never trembled as I tore one free and spun around. One flick and a flame came to life. I tossed it, watching it fly through the air before it landed. Chanel burned just as readily as the bedding.

In a whoosh, the pile was engulfed. Flames rose, climbing up the bed and onto the mattress where they’d once laid.

“We need to leave,” London urged.

I gave a slow nod, glancing over my shoulder. Through the reaching flames, I seared the image of her mangled face into my mind. There would be more like her by the time I had Colt back…many fucking more.

Carven flicked more matches, setting alight the rest of the townhouse.

“Guild,” London snarled into the phone as we headed out. “It’s time.” His heavy steps thudded on the stairs as we descended. “Pay every fucking mercenary whatever they want. But I want this city torn apart. Find Colt and find him now.”

“We’re coming for you, Colt,” I whispered as I raced down the stairs and lunged for the car. “Hold on, baby, we’re coming.”

“Where?” Carven demanded. He yanked the passenger door closed as London climbed in behind the wheel. “Where do we start?”

“In the center of this fucking nest,” he answered as he started the engine and shoved the car into reverse. We backed out of the driveway before the Audi lunged forward. “We go to Hale.”

I yanked my seatbelt down, driving it into place. The sharp snap of Carven’s gun was loud in the car. “Do it,” the son urged. “Take me to him.”

“Vivienne.” London started, meeting my gaze in the rear-view mirror.

“Give me a gun,” I demanded. “I need to fight.”

One careful nod of London’s head and the memory of them bursting into Macoy Daniels’ house rushed in. All I saw was my silent protector vaulting over that sofa, desperate to get to me. He would’ve killed anyone at that moment. Just as I wanted to kill now.

London reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun, handing it to me in the backseat of the car. I grabbed it, my fist curling around the patterned grip. Cold steel warmed under my touch. I shoved all fear aside and fixed my gaze on the streets ahead as we headed just out of the city, to where opulent houses waited. London was fixed on the road as he slowed, then turned into a driveway. A guard stepped out of a hut as we turned and pulled up at the towering iron gates.

But Carven was already moving, opening the passenger’s door and climbing out, lifting his hand as he quickly took aim across the windshield of the car.

Bang!

The guard never had a chance, dropping where he stood. Carven moved fast, rounding the front of the Audi, bending low to snatch the two-way from the guard as he raced for the hut.

“Stay behind me, understand?” The words were a command, but one filled with fear as London glanced at me in the mirror.

“I understand.” My words were dull and lifeless.

As Carven raced back to the open door and the gate slowly opened, I knew why. The Audi lunged forward, the engine roaring as London headed for the sprawling house at the end of the drive.

Shadows moved, coming for us. London slammed the brakes and pulled up hard…and Carven was gone in an instant. Doing what he was good at…being the cold, merciless killer as he hunted for his twin.

My breaths raced as I yanked the door handle and shoved, racing out after London.

Bang!

Bang bang bang! Shots fired in unison.

I lifted my gun, taking aim as a blur sharpened to one of Hale’s guards narrowing in on London. Breathe…breathe and squeeze. My finger curled tighter and tighter.

CRACK!

The weapon kicked in my hand. I didn’t have time to think, all I saw was the glint of steel aimed at those I loved and I reacted.

The guard stumbled backwards as the shot slammed into his shoulder. With my heart racing, I took aim again and fired as he took aim at me.

CRACK!

Only this time I hit him square in the middle of the chest. He sucked in a hard wheeze, coughed…then fell.

I watched him crumble. Flecks of blood flew through the air. But as I watched, I felt nothing at all.

A numbness clenched around my heart like an impenetrable icy fist. It was that fist I felt now. Not fear. Not disgust. Only that fist.

“Vivienne!” London roared. I tore my focus from the dying man and lifted my weapon again, took aim at the corner of the building, and rushed forward.

BOOM! Carven took aim and fired, blasting through the front door. I didn’t even flinch or turn my head, just rushed forward and stepped into the dark, chilling air of a foyer.

This is Hale’s house.

An icy shiver raced along my spine as I stepped inside the nest of my tormentor. I tried to catch my breath, but still it raced, clawing upwards as Carven’s steps faded up the stairs.

“Basement.” My words were cold and detached. “If he’s anywhere…it’ll be a basement.”

The whites of London’s eyes shone in the dark as the crack of a shot rang out from upstairs. But as we moved from the foyer and deeper into the house, with London leading the way, a wave of despair swept through me.

This place felt…empty.

Hollow almost.

And not just sparse. The light flicked on, illuminating what was the coldest, barest kitchen I’d ever seen. London scowled, turning around. Heavy steps moved overhead as Carven raced from room to room.

“Stay here,” London commanded.

I shook my head. There was no way in hell I wanted to be anywhere in this place on my own. But I gripped the gun and took a step backwards, pressed my spine against the wall of the kitchen, and listened for my lover’s resounding steps.

Hope filled me, then dread crept in.

He’s going to be here. He’s going to…he’s going to be alive.

He had to be…he…had…to…be. That ache in the back of my throat grew. They took the Daughters back to The Order to sell us for sex. But what did they do to the Sons? Where did they take them? I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything, because I’d never known they existed.

Not until London dragged me to his house for the first time. My hand sank, the gun aiming at the floor as the dread grew inside me and the heavy thud of footsteps raced down the stairs, coming closer.

“He’s not here,” Carven barked. “HE’S NOT FUCKING HERE!”

“No one is,” London added, coming out of the darkness. “The house is vacant.”

“Vacant?” I whispered.

He inhaled hard, dragging his fingers through his hair. Carven’s lip curled into a sneer before he turned and strode away, melting into the darkness. He just left…like that.

“What the hell?” I started.

It was like he knew. Like…Hale had fucking known.

Of course he had…he’s been planning this for weeks.

He knew London would react. He was planning on it, wasn’t he? Leaving him to be the cold-blooded assassin he truly was.

A roar came from outside. One filled with agony before a grunt followed as Carven dragged one of the guards he’d shot through the open front door and into the house. London scowled, then strode forward.

Carven threw the guard to the floor, then lifted his gun, pressing the muzzle to his forehead. “Where the fuck is he? Where is Hale?”

The pale, shaking guy shook his head. “I d-don’t know.”

But the Son didn’t believe him, leaning down. “Answer me or I’ll pull this goddamn trigger and splatter your fucking brains across this floor.”

The guard’s eyes widened. Still, he carefully shook his head. “I—”

“Tell us what you fucking know!” London barked, making me jump.

“N-nothing,” he stuttered. “I know nothing! I was hired last fucking week, told I was to guard the place in case of looters. I don’t even know who lives here, for fuck’s sake!”

Carven glanced at London.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” London met his son’s stare.

The guard shook his head and unleashed a low, thick sob. “I don’t even know who lives here.”

They had no idea what they were involved in. No idea the kind of man who employed them—

BANG!

I jumped as his head flew backwards and he slumped to the floor. Shock filled me, an endless vacuum that squeezed my stomach until I tasted acid in the back of my mouth. But I didn’t wretch at the brutality of Carven, and I didn’t turn away. He looked down with an unflinching stare, then turned away.

He walked out, leaving both of us to stare at the mess he’d left behind.

“Vivienne—” London started.

“I’m not leaving.” I gripped the gun and met his stare. “I’m in this now. There is no backing out, no leaving me behind. Let me fight for you, London. Let me do whatever needs to be done.”

His brow creased. There was a tortured look that tore across his gaze. “I wanted to protect you from this. I wanted—”

“They will never allow that, not while they exist.”

He knew that.

I knew that.

Maybe more clearly at that moment than I ever had. London wasn’t going to be predictable…not anymore…

This was personal.

“You stay close to me,” he added. “You hear me? You. Stay. Close.”

I gave a nod as he turned. We left the busted door to Hale’s house open as we climbed back into the Audi.

“We start at the clubs,” Carven demanded, his gaze fixed ahead. “Someone has to know where Hale is. We’re going to find them and when we do, we’ll find Colt.”

London never spoke, just shoved the car into drive and punched the accelerator all the way to the floor.